


Ouroboros

by bluecrownedmotmot



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Creepy, Gen, Medical, Nightmares, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecrownedmotmot/pseuds/bluecrownedmotmot
Summary: Post pacifist ending. Time is one of those things we all take for granted. But perhaps the way we think we perceive it isn't truly how it is. Isn't that so, Sans?





	

“-Things end in the middle?”

“Huh?” said Sans. He rubbed his eyesockets.

“What?” said Papyrus.

Sans was perplexed. A pause to consider the situation was not helping. _Nothing_ seemed to have come before the present moment. He felt as if he was trapped in gauze. Secure, but weirdly restricted.

It was warm in the living room. Autumn twilight was gently seeping through the windows. Sans was fond of their new house. Well, relatively new. Though it seemed incredible, seemed like time had galloped by, it had been a full year for them on the surface now.

“Bro,” Sans began, “Did I totally space out just now?”

“I don't know!” exclaimed Papyrus, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Were you even listening to anything I just said?!”

“Seems unlikely,” replied Sans. His hand twitched, and he realized he had the knob to the basement door in his hand. He looked back. It was ajar, as if he had just come upstairs. He probably had. He pushed the door shut. Muffled click. _Why am I so lost? I can't remember-_

“Hmph!” snorted Papyrus. He turned away from Sans, to the closet. He had a neat pile of coats stacked on the floor to one side. Puffy coats, checkered wool coats, rain coats, a coat that looked like it was made out of scales, lab coats. Coats for all occasions. Papyrus sure liked to organize and clean. Sans, on the other hand, preferred to stay uninvolved. “So did you find what you were looking for?” Papyrus continued.

“What I was looking for?” Sans said slowly, realizing something was wrong.

The ticking of the clock on the wall was too loud, for one. It sounded like the house was an animal whose body they were inside, the clock its heart. And two, they didn't _have_ any lab coats. Maybe a long time ago... But now? And three-

“ _In the basement_ ,” said Papyrus, in their dead father's voice, interrupting Sans' thoughts. Wire hangers scraped against the rod as Papyrus pushed garments aside.

“What are you doing?” asked Sans casually. He couldn't let Papyrus know that he knew that he wasn't Papyrus or else...

“ _Or else?_ ” Papyrus dropped the pretense of standing like Papyrus. He lowered his arms. When they hung at his sides, his blade-like fingers extended all the way to ground. He turned his head slowly, gradually toward Sans, and Sans noticed that his brother's head was weighted down, too heavy. He caught just a glimpse of the long, distended snout swiveling toward him, before-

 

Sans woke up as fast as he could.

Papyrus' empty eye sockets were staring into his.

Sans jumped back, not going anywhere other than slightly farther back against the cushions. He had been asleep on the couch. He recalled bedding down there earlier. He recalled the moments before that, too. Time settled back into its comfortable, sequential self.

Papyrus hopped with fright. “Sans! You startled me!”

“ _You_ startled me! The hell were you staring at me for?!”

“I was just making sure you were alright! You were making noises!”

“I was fine!” lied Sans.

“Good!” screamed Papyrus. “Go to sleep!”

“I _was_ asleep!”

“In your bedroom!”

“Okay, _Dad!_ ” Sans said, before he could stop himself.

“Dad?” said Papyrus, puzzled.

“I didn't mean to say that,” groaned Sans. “I didn't mean our dad. Look, I can take care of myself, Paps.”

“Can you?” wondered Papyrus, his voice soft.

“Yep. 'Bye.” Sans padded across the living room and jogged upstairs. Papyrus heard footfalls down the hall. The crash of Sans' door as it briskly shut.

Papyrus picked up the blanket Sans had wrapped around himself. He fluffed and rearranged the decorative pillows. Sans always squished and rumpled everything when he fell asleep down here. It drove Papyrus crazy.

 

***

 

“Why are you so tired?” asked Papyrus suspiciously, sticking his spoon upright in his morning oatmeal. It needed more water. He'd put more than enough in the kettle, but Sans had appropriated most of it for coffee while Papryus' back was turned.

“I couldn't really fall back asleep,” Sans replied. _Or maybe I didn't want to._ He took an enormous gulp of coffee from his mug.

“The day seems longer if you're not properly rested,” said Papyrus. He munched on a sugar dinosaur egg. “But you'd think that you'd have ample sleep stored up.”

“It's not quality sleep, bro.” Sans tilted the clear mug back and forth. There were tiny plastic animals and glitter suspended in water in hollow space within the glass. “Do you ever have nightmares, bro?”

“Not serious ones.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Not that I want you to but...”

“It's probably _because_ you sleep too much, Sans. You have more opportunities to have them!”

“Maybe,” said Sans doubtfully.

“Also, you think too much. And do too little. Get a hobby!”

“Eh. Look, I like hanging out with Tori, I like hanging out with you, I like going to the bar, I like reading and watching TV... I can't bring myself to care about much else.”

“What about research?” Papyrus suggested.

“Oh man, I _really_ don't feel like doing much of that at all,” Sans groaned. “As a matter of fact, thinking about some of that stuff bothers me more and more. That's why you're a solid guy, Paps. Nothing seems to worry you. After everything that we-”

“Why should it?” asked Papyrus.

Sans, tilting the mug too aggressively, spilled some coffee on the tile floor. Papyrus scowled at him.

“I know there's a tiger in here somewhere,” said Sans, grinning. “It's hiding.”

“I hate that mug!” said Papyrus with a sigh.

“Then why do you play with it when you take it out of the dishwasher?” said Sans, grinning even more.

“No wonder someone else got rid of it.” Papyrus shook his skull. “It's addictive!”

 

Papyrus left for his job.

Sans, naturally, still had several jobs. But none of them required his presence that particular day.

He took a nap and managed not to dream anything that he could remember.

He eventually pried himself out of bed and texted Toriel, asking her if she wanted to meet at Grillby's once she was out of school. She did. Nice.

 

***

 

“What did the teacher say to the eyeball monster?” said a voice behind Sans.

He rapped his fingers against his jawbone, thinking.

“What?” he responded eventually.

“Are you one of my pupils?” said the voice gleefully.

“Oooh. Not bad,” said Sans. He pulled out a stool for Toriel. “I guess we'll have to let you sit.”

“Why thank you,” said Toriel “My feet hurt after standing in the classroom all day.”

“Maybe you should get yourself a new pair of shoes,” said Sans.

Toriel kicked him with her fluffy foot.

“Wow, Ms. Toriel. I thought corporal punishment was banned nowadays in schools,” joked Sans.

“It is a good thing we are not in school right now,” replied Toriel. She ordered a drink.

They chatted for a while. It was a quiet weekday night. Just a couple of small groups of local monsters sat at tables, and a single human at the other end of the bar. Grillby was polishing clean glasses while listening to the human's woes, casting a warm glow but, as usual, not saying much.

“So how's the kiddo?” wondered Sans.

“It is funny you should ask!” said Toriel. “Frisk was very sick last weekend and was asking for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“I do not know. I was quite worried, but the sickness has passed. Frisk could not remember today what they wanted to tell you.”

“Huh.” Sans studied Toriel. She was rubbing her paw against the wood grain of the table. “Something bothering you, Tori?”

“How do I say this?” Toriel considered for a while. “It seems that something has _lifted_ from Frisk. Just now. Some darkness.”

“Darkness?”

Toriel shrugged. “Perhaps Frisk had been affected by the fall, by the trip through the Underground, and only now, a year later, are they right as rain.”

“Hmm,” said Sans.

Toriel looked into an ill-lit corner of the room. It reminded her of something. “Sans. This, I am sure, was nothing of consequence. And it happened long ago, very shortly after we settled in up here.”

“Spill.”

“One night, when I checked on the child... They were awake, just lying in bed, and they turned to me. I could have sworn...”

“Tori?”

“Frisk had another child's eyes. Just for a moment.”

Sans felt chilled. “You're seein' things, lady,” he said, with a chuckle.

Toriel seemed relieved to smile. “I am sure you're correct.”

 

When Sans got home, he went down to the basement. It was stuffy, so he opened a small window. The evening breeze was cold, but he decided that he'd rather have some air down there. Experiencing changing seasons up here was weird in general. Fall was particularly capricious.

Sans scribbled equations on his white board and went through the movements of solving for various variables. He started out not doing anything serious, but then he lapsed into thought about time. He found himself writing out problems he hadn't intended to delve back into.

At some point, he registered Papyrus coming through the front door upstairs. Papyrus came down several minutes later.

“You're having fun down here! Wowie. You haven't been here since we moved in, practically,” remarked Papyrus.

“I dunno that I'm having _fun_ , bro.” Sans scratched the top of his skull. “I dunno. Something just reminded me to come down here, that's all.”

“Sans, how many times do I have to inform you that hobbies are supposed to be fun?” Papyrus said, exhaling dramatically. “Will you never learn? What's bothering you? Are you upset about the heat death of the universe again?”

“Nah. Not tonight. Look at this. I've done the math again and again,” Sans muttered, gesturing to his messy scrawl. Dry eraser marker smudged the side of his left hand under his little finger. “The only way time _works_ is with multiple universes.”

“So?”

“So, is that real? Can math be inherently wrong? What the fuck _is_ math if you can't use it to explain everything?” Sans chewed the knuckles of a couple of finger bones nervously.

“Stop that. Why should it worry you so much? I don't see why it matters.”

“And I wish we didn't have all that crap down here,” said Sans, staring at the looming mass covered by a sheet. The currents of air from the window were making the fabric undulate.

Papyrus glanced at the bulky structure. “ _You_ wanted to bring Dad's old junk. _I_ said leave it.”

“Yeah.”

“It would have been very easy to let it stay behind.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Well.”

Sans watched the sheet billow out and then get sucked back in as if inhaled by a giant mouth.

“Papyrus.”

“Yes?”

“Couldja shut that window before you leave?”

Papyrus blithely crossed right in front of the shrouded machinery. The sheet reached out to brush against his side, cotton whispering against his bones. “Of course,” he said cheerily. He shut the window. The fabric settled.

Sans rubbed his own skull. He was starting to get a headache.

 

Sans' head felt much better down on his pillow. He had closed the drapes and his bedroom was completely dark. He gazed into the blackness. Like the whole world was gone. The only thing to indicate that he still existed was colorful static... Some vague golden shine... Just the mind trying to fill in the lack of sensory input...

Why did the thought of the whole world being gone cause him a moment of déjà vu?

But what was the point of questioning déjà vu, anway? All that was... Was...

 

_Was..._

 

Sans sat up. There was a needle connected to tubing sticking out of his tibia. A bone injection gun had been left beside him. He nudged it off the side and it clattered to the floor. He stared at the needle, feeling nauseated. The insertion didn't hurt nearly as much as the inevitable removal. But he had to do it. He pulled it out as fast as he could. He mashed his jaws together and doubled over. He hit his opposite femur with the heel of his hand, trying to halt the hurt that was crawling through him.

_Papyrus._

He had no time for this. He got off the gurney, slammed into the wall when he reacted to having weight on his leg. No time, no time, no time. He pushed himself up. Starting to fade anyway. It was fine. He limped across the room. He knew just where to go to reach the stairs. But when he touched the first stair, he heard his little brother... Crying. Somewhere back behind him.

_No._

He turned around. Ran toward the sound. The room seemed shifted on the way back, the hallway he darted down twisted. It was all resisting him. He scraped along the walls, unable to keep himself balanced, barely making progress. He somehow willed himself up to the first door.

He heard his brother wail from the next door, on the opposite wall. He flung himself hard to the other side and crept along with excruciating slowness until he got there. At the far end of the hall, what looked like a rotted dragon lifted its glowing head in the darkness. _Focus on what you need to do_. He rammed the door with his shoulder and pitched himself into the room.

 

Papyrus was on a gurney, as Sans himself had been. But so were a lot of other things. The room was just gurneys, disorganized, clumped, carrying heaps of rags, old pillows, stained scrubs. He shoved them out of his way and the wheels shrieked on the floor. A couple crashed to the ground. When he reached his brother, he easily picked the kid up. Papyrus clung to him, immediately quiet. He was all tangled up in something, but Sans would worry about it later. He turned.

He was not at all surprised to see the figure blocking the door.

“He's very weak. He'll never survive if he doesn't learn to fight,” said the monster. He was lean and white in the dim light.

“You're lying,” growled Sans. Funny. He'd forgotten completely how he used to sound. Not very intimidating at all.

“You're young and foolish. It's my responsibility to see that you two-”

“There's nothing wrong with the way he is! He's kind and caring and you're going to-”

The monster brushed dust off his lab coat, unconcerned. “Now, you on the other hand. Lazy. But you can stand up for yourself, can't you, Sans?”

“This isn't fair.” Sans had also forgotten being so tongue-tied by rage. Not that having this argument was anything but futile.

“It _isn't_ fair. I am merely teaching him this. Otherwise, someday, he'll meet with a bad end. If he can't fight.”

“He will not! I won't let it happen. I won't let you...”

“There's nothing you can do,” said their father, laughing. “Humans fall down here. It's happened before. It will happen again. They are calculating. They can sense vulnerability. Someone could kill your brother like killing was just a game to them. It's like you _want_ him to be helpless. Do you want that, Sans? Do you want to rush in and save him from everyone, everything? All the time? Forever and ever?”

“He fights. He's brave. You just don't understand it. I wish I was like him.”

“Maybe you were. Maybe you learned. He'll soon accept that this is how the world works. If I make him accept it.”

“ _He's five!_ He's supposed to trust you!” Sans screamed. “We're supposed to trust you! We'd be better off if you were dead!”

That did it.

“Would you?” said the figure sadly, his skull looking a bit like Papyrus, and then a bit like Sans as it boiled up into a volatile black smoke, which dispersed into nothingness. “You failed for him already, Sans. But when it counts for once and for all... You may still have a chance.”

The only thing Sans felt was relief. For himself and Papyrus. He ran out the door.

 

They were in the snow.

Sans went on and on, unsure if they were getting anywhere at all.

When he couldn't breathe anymore, he slid into the tree well beneath the branches of a pine.

He set Papyrus down. The kid wasn't upset at all, which was good. But he was still caught up in whatever he was caught up in. It was dim under the tree, surrounded by walls of snow. Sans used magic to illuminate the space with blue light.

Papyrus was wrapped in tubing, crawling all over his bones like-

_Vines?_

What a strange thought. A familiar thought. Sans began pulling off the tubing, trying to work out knots. Déjà vu? Hadn't he just been thinking about déjà vu? He freed his little brother and Papyrus wiggled free.

Papyrus, years and years away from being tall and long-limbed, reached his small arms out for Sans, smiling. “Sans Sans Sans Sans Sans,” he chattered, suddenly talkative.

Sans held him tight, but he now realized this was a memory. He willed himself to stay in the dream, although he could feel it starting to slip. “Yeah, buddy?” he asked his little brother.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere good,” promised Sans. “Somewhere good enough for you.”

 

His vision gradually went white.

 _Muddled_. That's what it was.

What happened when? What really happened?

And was there something, maybe, that had yet to be resolved?

Sans woke up.

 

Papyrus, current Papyrus, was sitting beside Sans' bed but he had slumped down, crossed his arms on top of the comforter Sans was beneath. Must have opened the drapes, because Sans could easily see by the moonlight. Sans stretched and Papyrus startled awake.

“I must have dozed off,” muttered Papyrus, straightening. “I was sitting with you, because you were talking in your sleep. I heard you from the hallway.”

“What was I saying?”

“It was all jumbled. I wanted to wake you up if you were having another nightmare. But I fell asleep myself. Sleeping,” said Papyrus, pausing to yawn, “Like yawning, is apparently contagious.”

Sans yawned.

“You're doing that on purpose!” Papyrus accused. He yawned again, clearly displeased.

“I am not,” laughed Sans.

“So was it a nightmare?”

“It was scary, yeah. But I'm glad I had it. There was a good moment.” Sans studied the bones of his small hand in the bluish light. “Paps. I know you were young and all, but... Do you remember anything about Dad?”

Papyrus looked blank for a moment. “It's unimportant.” He smiled. “I remember you.”

Sans, feeling relieved, flipped his pillow over and rolled to his side. “Good.” He pulled his comforter up to his chin. Papyrus didn't let him sleep on a bare mattress anymore. Sans had been annoyed initially, but he had to admit he felt much cozier with real bedding. As long as he never had to make the bed. “Bro,” said Sans groggily. “Do you think you remember something, but you can't quite figure out what?”

“I guess I don't understand what you mean,” said Papyrus.

“ _Presque vu_. Nevermind. I'm tired again,” mumbled Sans.

 “Go to sleep, Sans,” said Papyrus.

“You're not the boss of me...” said Sans, already half-dozing.

Just as Sans fell sound asleep, he heard Papyrus speaking again. He was saying, “Don't you hate it when-”

**Author's Note:**

> http://motmotfluttersforth.tumblr.com/


End file.
